Page 25 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

Shit.

The traffic light turns green, and I drive away from the madman who wants my hitchhiker’s skin.

I must take him to the emergency room. Somehow, he knows this.

He groans in pain. “Don’t take me to the hospital, please.”

“Okay.”

Go to the police, Marianne,I tell myself. Call Arietta. She always knows what to do.

Do something rational!

No. I park in an alley next to a thrift store. I turn off the engine. Completely irrational.

“I’ll go get you dry clothes. Don’t steal my car.”

“I’m not in any state to steal something.”

True. Running and opened wounds rarely go well together.

The store I entered is old, but I found what I needed: a T-shirt, sweatpants, jeans, socks, underwear, and a fleece sweater. He can take my spare toothbrush. I must return to the car, but my face feels flexed and strange.

Oh, shit. I’m having fun.

A text message from Arietta comes through, and my muscles tense, making me snap back to the real world. It’s a photo of her and Donovan hiking, with a stunning landscape in the background. The time stamp shows it was taken early morning.

Get up and conquer the world, sugar tits. No one will do it for you. Have a great vacation!

Shit. She’s right.

As I return to my car, a painful golden gaze greets me. The second I pull out of the alley, tires screech in the distance, and a silver SUV approaches and closes in on us at great speed.

Stranger Danger turns his head when he sees my wide eyes. “Drive!” he yells with desperation.

And just like that, I’m thrown into a heart-pumping car-chase scene.

My hands grip the steering wheel with an iron resolve.

The engine roars as I speed through the city streets, determined not to be caught by my pursuers.

I’m not on the menu tonight!

My mind races, searching for an escape route. The city’s unfamiliar streets blur past me as I navigate through the labyrinth of alleys and side roads.

“Wow…” the wounded stranger says in the back.

I burst into a weird cackle. “Glad you’re enjoying the ride! Buckle up; it might be a rocky road.”Mm. Ice cream.

“Just try not to kill us both,” he replies, with amusement and genuine concern.

Each turn is calculated, and each maneuver is executed with precision. I can’t afford a single mistake. It’s easier than the go-karts!

And I love it.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I glimpse the pursuer’s SUV closing in. Their dark, tinted windows hide their identities, but their malevolent presence creeps like a shadow up my spine. A sentiment I can’t recognize fuels my every move, pushing me to the limits of speed and agility.

“Who’re they? Why’re they chasing you?” I shout, teeth clenched as I drift a tight turn.

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